


on friendship

by baekhyun (baruna)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Book 3, King's Rising spoilers, M/M, nikandros on laurent and his relationship with damen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baruna/pseuds/baekhyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikandros remembers seeing Laurent, and thinking quite clearly, Oh no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on friendship

They observed each other, Laurent with a placid gaze and Nikandros with naked, unmistakable hostility.

It was days after the coronation of Damianos, the King of Akielos, and the business of political maneuvering and discussions of the council had taken up almost all Nikandros's time. Yet Nikandros had noticed the long, meaningful looks between the two kings, the pause of a touch too long on his King’s shoulder—in fact, it was impossible to ignore, for Damianos’s infatuation filled the room with a heady affection whenever Laurent entered a room, as if he did not believe that Laurent could be there at all.

Now they stood, alone in one of the bedrooms in the palace.

Laurent had sent away his guards away when he requested that Nikandros speak with him.

“Why am I here, Exalted?” Nikandros said politely. It was easier to use Akielon titles of formality. It was not that he disliked Laurent. Quite the opposite really. Laurent was ruthless, intelligence hidden behind a facade of ice-cold blankness as a planned ruler. Nikandros was _wary_.

“I have brought you here so that we may discuss Damianos.” Laurent said calmly. Nikandros stiffened. Laurent must have noticed, but completely ignored it.

“I know that you do not trust me still,” Laurent began, “But I wish to tell you that I will not hurt him.”

“Exalted.”

“You see me in the same vein as Jokaste—a serpent within your Akielon ranks desiring his own gain, ready to toss your King aside for greed and power. You two are close, so I wanted to—” Laurent cut off abruptly, a tiny smidge of frustration at his brow. “I wanted to gain your approval.”

“You manipulated me. Delpha, Ios, all our positions.” Nikandros said.

“I did.” Laurent said, and his face was expressionless now.

“There is nothing to discuss.” Nikandros's voice was hard.

Laurent said, “I see.” There was nothing in his tone now, and it appeared that Laurent had misunderstood.

So Nikandros enunciated very slowly: “You have helped us win the war, and protected him from his brother. You have shown yourself as a true ally of Akielos, willing to defend our King at the cost of your own position. So like I said, there is nothing to discuss.”

They shared a moment of quiet, and in that moment a look of simultaneous understanding passed between them.

“You may leave.” Laurent said. Nikandros did.

 

 

Nikandros remembers seeing Laurent, and thinking quite clearly, Oh no.

Laurent had been gracing his seat with a sprawling kingly pose, falsely leisurely, the perfect picture of relaxation— yet one knew that there was danger hidden underneath the beauty, like an illusion of a yellow-red rosebud overpowering the thorns below, pricking the hand once touched. He could imagine it now, the welling of red blood beading at the tip of the finger, falling onto a wet leaf and morphing into a green-red clash of abnormality. 

Laurent’s clothing had been typical Veretian fashion. It was a controlled mass of blue garden-like lace and cloth, tight against the man’s body and complimenting his arched back. Even Nikandros had to pause, appreciate the immaculate sculpted features of that Vere King’s sharp, beautiful face. It salted a little, to acknowledge, but it was undeniable.

But this was also the man who had taken their King, enslaved him, and tortured him. And perhaps most dangerously, seduced him. Nikandros filled with anger again. The disrespect of Vere was embodied in front of him but he could do nothing, for they needed him. At the moment.

Most of all, Laurent was beautiful. He was an image emancipated from the mythic stories, of a tragic and devastating beauty. There was a sensual physicality to him, yet what was even striking was the detached way he spoke from his mind.

And there lay the problem: he was Damen’s type, embodied in flesh. It was obvious. Nikandros remembered Jokaste, who had been the biggest disaster yet. Her similarly calculated mind, and knifelike wrenching beauty.

The only option was to entreat Damen to reconsider.

Nikandros worried. Yes, he worried indeed, for it was not inconceivable that his friend would be drawn by a pretty face, a challenge, and in doing so had thrown caution to the wind. His guard was let down, and that was dangerous. Already beaten down once, twice, Nikandros would not let his friend be tricked again.

And that was how he would approach and see Laurent of Vere.

 

 

The enchanting fresh air diverted attention away from the rising tension in the field for only a brief moment. The deafening roar of celebration barely stirred Laurent, leaving only an impression that he was absurdly calculated— the smirk that adorned his features was aristocracy at its finest. Nikandros felt the intensity of his distrust further.

The shocking truth of Laurent’s prowess had stunned them all. Utilizing nimbleness to his advantage, he had casually and professionally hit every single target, riding with skill. Nikandros had thought them all weak milksops, yet here he was, proven wrong.

Laurent’s curved litheness was a stark contrast to his other opponents, who seemed comparatively filthy with their brute strength.

It was no wonder that Damen was enraptured. Nikandros narrowed his eyes, focusing on the two. They were delighted by victory, but Nikandros could see clearly when Damen had taken the spear from the air. His focus had been solely on Laurent.

And at that very moment, was a look of extreme tenderness on his face. The Veretian icicle was smiling, looking away and talking elsewhere, and Damen just held a longing look of desire and pure joy, to be near.

 

 

It was later, when Laurent had ridden back to Vere to solidify his country, after all the specificities had been dealt with, when they spoke of Laurent again. Nikandros thought of the layering of scars on Damen’s back.

“You will continue to lay with him.” Nikandros said flatly. Damen stared back, his gaze firm and unyielding. “You like him.”

The flickering of the candlelight made the room seem fuller than it was.

“My friend,” Damen said, gently, “I do not think ‘like’ is the appropriate word.”

Nikandros froze. He should have expected it. The tangible nature of Damen’s feelings were frightening and powerful, and it had been clear from the start.

“I love him. I do not need your approval for this.” Damen said. It was not meant to be cruel. It was a raw and honest admission.

Nikandros suddenly remembered years of hatred and prejudice. Vere was the enemy! They were punishing and unpleasant, conniving where someone should be direct, dishonorable instead of righteous. Yet they had gained his respect. Jord’s abilities as a fighter, and Laurent’s biting intelligence. But most off all, Laurent's unexpected loyalty. Something inside Nikandros resolved, or closed.

“Laurent of Vere called me to his Chambers, a week ago.” Nikandros offered, slowly.

“Did he.” There was something in Damen’s voice. Damen was tense, holding himself with dignity for the expected verbal blow, and Nikandros thought that he looked like a King right then more than ever.

“My King,” Nikandros said with finality, “You do not need my approval, but you have it nonetheless.”

 


End file.
